


The Best View in Scotland

by HiddlesPirate



Category: Paul Carella
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Shower Sex, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddlesPirate/pseuds/HiddlesPirate
Summary: After having a baby, Reader’s hot and heavy and ready to show her partner just how much his being a hero to sheep really made her heart race.
Relationships: Paul Carella/Reader
Kudos: 5





	The Best View in Scotland

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the mistakes, I’m dyslexic and don’t always spot them. It’s the first story I’ve completed in years. Go easy on me, guys

I smiled, as I stood on the back porch, soaking in the summer sun’s rays. The heat was a blessed embrace with Scottish breeze caressing my bare arms as they rested, folded across my chest. The baby had finally settled down to sleep and my partner had gone to help out on his family’s farm. I could have helped, I had wanted to help, but the wee lad that slept in the bassinet mere feet beyond the door to the outside world was much too young to be traipsed across farm paddocks strapped to his mother who would stumble into a pot hole the moment she stepped into the uneven field. If it was just me, I would have marched on in without a care, but the idea of risking my son’s safety due to my clumsiness and determination to be of use didn’t sit well with me. 

So I waited at home, catching the sun for a brief moment before I headed back indoors to get on with mountain of work I had clogging up my inbox. Because while the world had stopped, time marched on and plans for future events had to be made. There was no ignoring it. 3 months ago, I was a woman who had managed to hide her growing belly from the world, my star was on the rising and my partner of 2 years and I were trying to work out how the hell we were going to make our family work. Our relationship worked as it was; I lived and worked in Canada, he lived and worked in the UK. He would tour the world with his music and I would work long, hard hours on Supernatural to earn the ability to take the time off whenever I wanted. He would come over for a week, or I would fly over for a week or I’d drop everything to get to a gig for a night. It wasn’t easy, but we made it work and our friends helped to make it work. 

Then I found out I was pregnant and the world shut down and I hauled ass to get to him before I couldn’t. It was a stark change in our lives, we had never lived together longer than a few weeks. But somehow we made it work. We would both work at the same time to make sure we would have time together and when we had time together, we made the most of it. In every sense. He would sneak up behind me, caress my neck with his lips and my bump with a feather-light hand as I cooked dinner. I would watched him from the doorway as he brushed his teeth, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats. In the moonlit darkness of night, he would shower me in kisses and nips until I melted and together we became one. 

I sighed at the ghost of his lips on my skin, my fingertips caressing the skin where his kisses left their memory. He was such a dedicated man; to his family, to his friends, to his career, to his fans. To me. It was one of the things I love so much about him. I was, after all, a fan before I was his. It was why I had tried to remain as quiet as I could when I went into labour and tried to wait until he had finished his stageit gigs. I knew it was silly, but I couldn’t bare it if he had to disappoint his fans. I had been so determined to not get in the way of him and his fans throughout our relationship, his fans meant the world to him. 

But as determined as I was to not get in the way of an artist and his audience, our wee boy was determined to come out into the world and listen to his daddy play. Arlo Willam arrived into the world quickly and without warning, his father joining the moment in the nick of time. How the fates had timed it just so, I had no idea, but two became three and our lives were changed forever as we lived in our isolated world of a global pandemic. 

Rapidly approaching footfalls broke me from my fantasy and I jumped, lowering my face from the sun’s rays to look at who was approaching. Running towards the house, quite obviously in a hurry, was my partner in crime and favourite human. I would have smiled, if I hadn’t noticed the urgency on his face.  
‘What’s wrong, love,’ I asked, quietly as to not awake Arlo. I padded across the timber deck barefoot to meet him at the edge. His hands and boots were muddy, not unusual for a farm. But he didn’t often run to the house. Something wasn’t right. 

‘Hi, love,’ Paul said, wrapping an arm around my waist, careful not to get mud on me as he kissed me tenderly. I sighed, reaching up to cup his stubbled cheek as I welcomed his lips. ‘How’s your work going?’ I snored. It wasn’t. I was caught in an argument with someone over a topic that didn’t warrant an argument and I was moments from telling them they were a bunch of idiots.   
‘That good, huh,’ he answered, the thick Glaswegian accent that rolled off his tongue making the kitten within me purr. I didn’t think I would ever get over it.   
‘What’s wrong, babe,’ I whispered, feeling the slickness of his sweat through his shirt.   
‘There’s a wee lamb stuck in a hole in one of the fields,’ he answered, as my eyes widened. ‘Need to get a spade.’ 

‘Why are you kissing me, babe,’ I cried, shaking him playfully. ‘Go save the wee’n, Cap’n.’ He chuckled, kissing me again before pulling away.  
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, squeezing me before he made for the shed. I quickly raced into the kitchen, checking on Arlo as I passed to fill a water bottle. I rushed out to the porch, pulling up short at the sight of the delicious globes on display. There was no denying I found Paul’s heart and mind deeply attractive. But, Jesus, the Gods broke the mould when they made him. I couldn’t be upset by the thirst of his fans, hell, I had been known to join them, much to Paul’s embarrassment. I bit my lip, feeling my body reacting at the racy visions that flashed through my mind. 

‘Enjoying the view, love,’ he called, passing as he lifted the spade to head back to the stranded sheep. I grinned, my hormone and desire sending a roll through my hips as I sashayed towards him.   
‘Always,’ I quipped, kissing him heatedly as I handed him the bottle. ‘Go get ‘em, baby.’ He nipped my lip and grinned.   
‘You’re feeling better,’ he muttered as he squeezed my waist.   
‘Uh huh, but you have a sheep to rescue,’ I whispered, kissing him gently before letting him go. ‘So off you pop.’ He swatted my ass as I turned away and I groaned, throwing him a wink over my shoulder.

I watched him head back out before I returned to my argument, but I couldn’t get the thought of Paul out of my mind. My nipples were hardened nibs, rubbing against my bra as I breathed. The beat of my pulse fluttered between my thighs where he effected me most. I tried to circumvent the argument and avoid the loss of the boss’s appearance at a convention, taking a different approach at getting my point across, which seemed to work. But I was no less distracted. In fact, as time grew on and I started a zoom meeting with my boss, Al Calvert, I only became more distracted to the point where I looked at my notes and was glad that the meeting had been recorded. 

But all I could think about was the man who was out in a field rescuing a lamb and how he could bring me to my knees with a simple glance. How he could sing to a crowded room and make a connection with every single person there. How he would pull me from the crowd to steal kisses and touches in the darkest corner where anyone who looked could see. All I could picture in my mind was how he would take me to a restaurant and treat me like a queen, only to worship me like a goddess in the back of his car. How often we had found ourselves in compromising situations with naught but pure dumb luck on our side. He treated me good and kind and womanly. He didn’t shy away from being wicked and naughty and bad. He was both and he had been good for far too long; doctor’s orders. But good was no longer necessary. And fuck, I want him to not be good.

Arlo cried out, stirring me from my trance as I realised I was staring out the kitchen window, coffee mug in hand.   
‘Hush, wee one,’ I called quietly, putting my cup down on the counter and rushed to the bassinet in the living room. ‘Mama’s here.’ I pulled my son from his bed and cradled the tiny infant in my arms as he cried.   
‘Mama’s here, little one,’ I cooed, rocking him in my arms as I made my return to the kitchen to the bottle warmer on the counter. I pulled a bottle free and tested the heat before I let the boy in my arms have his fill, Arlo suckling down the milk with greedy hunger that only he could. 

I stared down at the tiny human that had grown in my body. He was so much like his father. Turfs of white blond hair that would grow darker as he got older dusted his head and his eyes were as blue as the man who had weaseled through my walls and absconded with my heart. Even his nose was like Paul’s. I could just see trouble in our future with him. His tiny fingers were pulled to his chest and I could only relish the sight of him, the child that wasn’t meant to be possible, the combination of me and the sweetest, kindest man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, let alone loving. 

Voices approached the house and cradling the baby, I wandered outside to meet them. As I exited onto the porch, Paul and his sister rounded the corner into the backyard.   
‘Did you save the day, Cap’n,’ I asked, holding the bottle tilted for Arlo to continue feeding. Paul rested the filthy spade against the porch and threw his hand on to his hips, puffing his chest like Superman.   
‘You bet,’ he replied, as I burst out laughing at the sight. Paul was filthy. Wet mud covered him from his chest down and somehow, he had gotten mud across his brow, perhaps when he had wiped the sweat from it.   
‘Did you enjoy your swim,’ I asked, looking at how wet and mucky he was.   
‘You just wait til Arlo can come and play out here,’ he countered, picking up the hose as he turned on the tap. ‘My muddy clothes will be the least of your worries.’ I pulled a face at the idea of the wee lad cradled securely in my arms being old enough to play in the mud. It was too far off and in the current global situation, I was quite happy with him being a babe. 

His sister laughed as Paul washed the mud of his spade and gloves.   
‘I videoed it,’ she said, flipping through her phone and toeing off her wellies before she joined me on the porch. Arlo finished his bottle as I swore under my breath. I had been so distracted that I had forgotten a spit up cloth.  
‘One second,’ Paul chuckled, turning off the tap and dropping the hose on the ground. Then, as if in slow motion, he reached over his head to grab the back of his shirt. It wasn’t as the first time I had seen him shirtless, the baby in my arms could attest to that. But it didn’t often happen when we had company and certainly not his sister. My breath hitched and I swallowed, watching him mount the steps to the porch and fold the inside out, muddy shirt. 

‘Toss a coin to your Captain, oh valley of plenty,’ I muttered loud enough for him to hear as he placed the cloth over my shoulder, the mud down my back to catch Arlo’s spit up. He snickered, shaking his head at me and taking the bottle from my hand as I lifted the wee lad to my shoulder to burp him.   
‘You’re trouble,’ he said, walking away from us to return to his washing.   
‘You love it,’ I quipped back, as he grinned at me and winked. 

‘Get a room,’ my future sister-in-law interjected as I licked my lips playfully at him. Laughing, I patted my son’s back as I moved to watch the video of him digging the lamb out of the mud. Paul’s scent filled my nostrils and every few moments I could see him moving in my peripheral, making my body react and heart race. That coupled with the sound of grunts and Paul’s swearing was all too much for a woman to bare. The only thing stopping me from flying at him was his sister and Arlo, who had just burped loudly in my ear. 

‘My goodness, I heard that from here,’ Paul’s sister exclaimed, handing me the phone as she stepped behind me to wipe the sick off her nephew’s chin. I chuckled, letting his Aunty lift him out of my arms as I watched Paul help lift the sheep out of the mud and the sheep run towards his mummy.   
‘Aaaawww, Paul,’ I squeaked, as the lamb nuzzled his mother’s head and I looked up to see him approaching me. He gently pulled the soiled shirt from my shoulder, wrapping it up as he kissed me gently. ‘My very own Disney prince.’   
‘Ha, haha, ha,’ he said dryly, as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands holding my back. He kissed me heatedly, as I let my hand flattened on his bare abdomen and chest, whimpering against his lips. Suddenly I didn’t care how dirty my clothes would get, just as long as he held me.

‘We’re just going to go and visit nanny and poppa, aren’t we, wee man,’ cooed the woman behind us, holding our baby. ‘Because mummy and daddy are being gross and aren’t able to keep their hands to themselves. And I think mummy and daddy need mummy and daddy time.’ I pulled away at that comment and felt my skin turn scarlet as I buried my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around me and held me close as I felt him flip off the disappearing woman. He was slick with sweat and smelled of hard work and wet soil, but it wasn’t offensive. In fact it was oddly pleasant, which made me wonder if my sense of smell had broken during Arlo’s labour. I had no issue with that.

I felt him kiss the top of my head and nuzzle into the crook of my neck, his stubbly chin and cheek teasing my skin as he kissed my shoulder.   
‘She’s right, though,’ he whispered, gently bucking against my belly to show me just how badly daddy need to be alone with mummy. I groaned, my fingers wandering from his stomach to the hollow in his back. I cupped the back of his neck and turned my head to kiss him heatedly.   
‘You get in the shower, love, I’ll get Arlo’s bag,’ I whispered against his lips. He nipped the skin of my lower lip and growled, cupping my arse through my jeans.   
‘Yes, ma’am.’ 

I reluctantly pulled away and felt a strong hand swat my behind. I groaned, stopping in my tracks to feel as he scooped me up to him, nuzzling my neck as he crouched to press his growing member against the curve of my rear. My denim-covered cheek sung with the resonance of the sting and my already tightened breasts screamed for his attention.   
‘Paul, your sister,’ I muttered, feeling his stubble caressing my soft skin as his hand slid down over my belly and over my jeans between my thighs. He growled in my ear and gave me a squeeze, pulling a gasp from my lips.   
‘Who cares,’ he whispered, nibbling on my lobe as I arched into his hand. I reached up and held his head, shuddering in his arms.   
‘Pa...Paul, Arlo,’ I gasped, making no move to pull away from my lover’s arms. He growled, biting my neck playfully before letting me go. 

I felt naked and alone outside of his embrace. I sucked in a shaky breath before I steeled myself, willing myself to step away from him. He chuckled, stepping around my frozen form and heading for the small French doors that connected the master bedroom to the outside world.  
‘Don’t traipse the mud inside,’ I squealed, as he made to step in with his muddy socks and trousers. He cocked a brow in my direction, quickly whipping the filthy clothes from his body to stand on the porch in his underpants. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped at the sight of him, the fabric of his pants leaving very little for the imagination to conjure up.   
‘My eyes are up here,’ he said, his Scottish burr full of teasing sass as he pointed to his faces. 

My name filtered from inside the house and I blinked, remembering that my sister in law wanted to escape. My skin turned molten as I heard Paul chuckle, stepping inside the house and disappearing from view. I sucked in a breath and let out an inhumane whine before I finally brought myself to move, scooping up Arlo’s nappy bag from the kitchen floor as I passed it on my way to the front door. I only stopped to pack a handful of extra nappies and wipes inside, knowing his nanny and papa had bottles and formula in their cupboard already. They had been prepared from the moment we had told them I was pregnant, bless them. 

The sound of running water filled the back end of the house as I joined Aunty and nephew at the open front door.   
‘You’re welcome to stay,’ I said, handing the nappy bag over as Arlo slept in her arms.  
‘You and I both know that that was never going to happen with you two making fuck me eyes at each other,’ she replied, grinning at me as if she knew something I didn’t. I frowned, my confusion evident across my face.   
‘He asked me to take Bubs for the afternoon, love,’ she continued, as if it would explain everything. But as sweet and heady as the idea Paul had asked his sister to help with getting me alone was, I still had a reasonable amount of baby brain coupled with the side effects of his little tease on the porch. To say I was slow on the uptake was an understatement.

‘Hun, it’s been 6 weeks since Arlo was born,’ she explained for my slow brain as my eye widened and my jaw dropped. I had been counting the days until we could lose ourselves in each other, but it wasn’t as if we had done nothing. I had certainly shown him just how much I enjoyed giving to him. I opened my mouth but she cut me off.  
‘Ahhh, don’t ask,’ she cried, ‘he’s my brother, I really don’t want to know. Just go, enjoy your alone time, hun.’ I grinned, hugging her and kissing Arlo’s cheek before she made her way toward the main homestead down the way.

I watched them go until they reached the gate before I headed back inside, closing the front door behind me as I swept across the house to the master bedroom. I could heard Paul in the shower in the en-suite and I sauntered in and leaned on the door frame. I had found him shirtless in the sun sexy, his teasing and gentle manipulations haunting and delightful, his cotton-encased rear and bulge a decadent, illicit drug for my own personal addiction. 

But nothing ever came close to him naked. Standing in the shower that cascaded like a waterfall in a rainforest, water rolling over his skin, droplets begging to be lapped up by my lips, he looked like the fabled Adonis. His fingers running through his hair, bubbles slipping from the strands, racing down over the plains of his back, over the pert round globes of his rump and down over the dusting of his thighs. I tilted my head, my arms folding across my chest as I lost myself in the sight before me. 

‘You just going to stand there, love,’ he asked softly, his voice echoing around the wet room to snap me out of my trance. I looked up to see him looking at me over his shoulder with a wicked, cat-that-got-the-cream grin. I had most definitely been caught ogling his goods.   
‘What can I say? It’s the best view in Scotland,’ I quipped back, reaching up to gently caress my lips with my fingertips.   
‘That’s a pretty bold claim, since I’m looking at it right now,’ he returned, turning under the cascade of water, his masculine form hardened as he reached for my hand. I pushed off the frame and stepped forward to take it, rolling my eyes at him. He knew how I felt about my body. 

Suddenly I whipped into his watery embrace, fully clothed under the steady stream of warm water. I squealed loudly at the shock of the water soaking me to the bone as he encapsulated me in his arms. I could only thank the gods that I had thrown my phone on the bed in passing.   
‘Did you just roll your eyes at me,’ he growled, his face mere centimetres from mine, shielding my face from the onslaught with his sheer height. I caressed his chest on the path up to wrap my arms around his neck. I looked him dead in the eye and rolled my eyes up at him again, pointed sass oozing from the gesture. He foreigned disgust and hurt before he launched his assault on my lips. 

There was no hiding in his kiss. No pandering around the electric need for each other for the comfort of others. No regard for doctor’s orders and holding back lest he inadvertently hurt me. It was raw, pure and simple. 6 weeks of pent up sexually desire and need that had only been soothed with the bandaid of my mouth. For a couple who had never been very good at keeping our hands to ourselves, 6 weeks had been a lifetime for both of us. And finally, finally, the sentence had ended. 

Our bodies flush to one another, my clothed form pressed hard against his nude one, we writhed as if we were trying to become one. His hands slid from their place at my back to cupped my arse in my sodden jeans, trying to pull me into the reach of his shaft. I moaned against his velvet lips, rolling my hips just so, rubbing the biting zip of my fly up the length of him gently before pushing my lower cheeks into the grasp of his hands. He hissed, swatting my soaked denimed cheek hard before backing me against the tiles. 

The swat had me crying out, my head falling back to hit the tiles with a thud before I bucked up against him. His fingers made quick work of my shirt, whipping the water-logged fabric over my head and throwing in to the corner of the shower before ripping the front clasp of my bra. My mounds fell free moments before I was in his hand and a pair of attentive lips were sucking around my peaked nipple. I cried out, grasping the back of his head as my fingers wrapped around the strands of his hair and the nails of my free hand clawed at his bare shoulder. His free hand slid over my belly, still rounded from carrying Arlo, and beneath the waist band of my jeans, his fingers seeking the pleasure point.

‘Ah, fuck, Paul,’ I gasped, arching my breasts into his manipulations and pelvis into his touch, my fingers tightening on his hair and shoulder. He had made contact. He chuckled, repeating the teasing tongue circling my hardened bud in time with his finger pressing the button in my jeans. I moaned, my eyes rolling back in my head and my head lulling forward as I tried to match the time of his manipulations. But every time I moved to match him, he would stop, letting me edge for what seemed like an age before starting all over again.

‘Fuck, Paul, please stop playing,’ I whimpered after several minutes of his teasing. I looked down at him latched onto my nipple and watched as he pulled away and letting the tip of his tongue flick over the erect bud. I squealed, my chest heaving as his hands left my body and focus on the button of my jeans. He made quick work of freeing the metal stopper before dropping his knees in the bottom of the shower.   
‘Look at me, love,’ he whispered, his quiet tone a command that only real men could muster. My head snapped to attention as he leaned forward and peppered kisses over my pouch. He knew how much I loathed my belly, even before having Arlo I had struggled to love my hormone porch. But he had always made me feel sexy and desirable with it. He looked me in the eye as he kissed every inch of my skin there, his fingers working the water-tightened jeans over my hips and thighs as he kissed lower. 

‘I love you,’ he whispered, kissing the crease where my belly met my pervis as his hands helped me step out of the pile of wet clothing.  
‘I love you too,’ I whispered in return, as he smiled up at me brightly before his smiled morphed into a grin.   
‘Wait, no, Paul, I can’t... PAUL,’ I wailed as my hands flew to his hair, his face buried between my strategically placed thighs with his tongue teasing my button like he had been teasing my breast. I felt him chuckle between my thighs as he left my thigh over his shoulder and he reached up to open me to his sweet torture.   
‘Paul, fuck,’ I muttered, arching off the wall into the cascading waterfall and pressing myself into his mouth. ‘Paul, I can’t...’

He swatted the cheek of the leg over his shoulder, rubbing the burning skin gently as I started to pant. His tongue slipped between my folds over and over, bringing me to the edge only to pull me back to safety. His hand snaked over my thigh to hold my pelvis still, his body settling beneath me as he lapped up the result of his attention.   
‘Paul, fuck, I can’t...’ I panted, my breath uneasy and heavy as his sweet torture set my chest and legs a-quiver. He chuckled, the deep rumble shaking through my soul before he gave my nib a long drawn out suckle. I screamed, my fingers pulling on his hair so hard that he growled. But the vibrations only added to the pleasure as my orgasm hurtled through me like a freight train in the dead of night. It was long and drawn out and he didn’t stop tasting his reward, only making my body rattle harder.

‘Paul, Paul, Paul, please, babe, have mercy, fuck me, have mercy.’ The words fell in quick succession from my lips as I begged him to take mercy on my sensitivity. The man between my thighs took pity on me and pulled away, keeping my leg elevated as he stood and hooked my knee over his hip. I gasped, letting him take advantage of my open mouth as his thick manhood grazed my wet lower body. I threw my arms around his neck, letting his tongue dominate the domain beyond my lips, submitting to his sweet mercy. 

He only let me go long enough to turn off the shower head, the water having turned from warm to ice long ago before he blindly had me lifted in his arms, thighs wrapped around his waist and out of the shower. I squealed as he set my bare behind atop the cold vanity and I bucked up against him in an attempt to get away from the chilly surface. 

‘Easy, baby,’ he whispered against my lips, holding me steady with one arm tightly wound around my waist while he reached for my towel with the other. I sighed, the trimmed hair on his skin tickling my palm as I cupped his cheek and kissed him anew, feeling him wrap the towel around my body. He groaned against my lips; he may have been the top in our relationship but he certainly enjoyed it when I took charge. 

‘Wait,’ I whispered, placing my hand gently on his chest. He pulled back slightly to look at me with mild confusion and curiosity as I looked him dead in the eye. I put slight pressure on my hand to ask him to step back so I could get down, his strong arms helping lower me to the floor.   
‘Don’t move,’ I whispered, pressing my body hard against him as I lifted myself onto my tiptoes to nip his bottom lip. He hissed, his hardened cock pulsing against my belly with excitement.   
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied, his hands set on my hips gliding up my body as I lowered myself to my actual height. 

I took a small half step back to slowly take in the Scottish Adonis that by some miracle wanted to be with little ole me. His face had captured my heart when I had first met him, with a kindness and gentleness in his eyes that seemed to not only melt the walls I had been building for year but take to them with a blowtorch. His shoulder were encapsulating with his strong arms that could drive a woman crazy with the sheer strength that they oozed. His chest, chiseled with a dusting of hair that on anyone else would have been a turn off but on him, somehow, the sight of it had my nipples hardening more solid than diamond and the feeling of it on my skin had me wetter than the South Pacific. His stomach was flat and tone, and when he moved, one could see the muscles ripple beneath his skin, with the snail’s trail that pointed to the big x. His legs were toned, whenever he had caught me staring, it wasn’t simply his arse I had been admiring. But I was thinking about just how much power this gorgeous legs had driving his cock into me.

I let my hand wander the length of his body, over his abdomen and his snail’s trail to caress his velvet shaft gently. He ground his teeth together, his hands tightening on my hips as he dropped his head to rest against the side of mine. I smiled softly at the sound of my name falling from his lips like a prayer. I loved everything about Paul, even his habits that annoyed the ever-loving shit had me weak at the knees. But fuck, the magic he could perform with his cock was the stuff worthy of the gods. No man had ever had me going like the man who held me now. And he had the modesty of a saint. 

‘Where are you going,’ he whispered, as I let him go, my fingers continuing to travel over his hips as I moved around behind him. His head followed me as far as he could, my lips grazing across his bicep and his shoulder blades, my hand taking his hip as my fingers roamed over the globe of his cheek. My breasts pressed against his back as he took my hand under his, my lips pressed between his shoulder blades. 

“You know what,’ I whispered, against his back.   
‘Hmmm,’ he replied, squeezing my hand with his.   
‘Chris Evans may have America’s Arse, but I’m touching Scotland’s right now,’ I said, smiling against his skin as he burst out laughing. I wrapped my arms around his waist, my body shaking with laughter as I joined in his amusement of my semi joke.   
‘Fuck, I love you,’ he said, his laughter dying down as I kissed his back again.  
‘I love you, too, baby,’ I replied, reaching back around to swat his rump playfully. ‘Now, turn around.’

He groaned, doing as he was told and turning in my arms. I kissed him quickly with ravenous heat, pressing him back against the vanity where he had me before I made my way down his body with my lips. He reached for the vanity as I travelled over his chest, teasing his nipples quickly before continuing down to his stomach and below. I dropped to my knees before him, taking his shaft in hand to jerk him tenderly as he swore loudly to the heavens. I looked up at him from my spot, taking in the sight of his ecstasy as I leaned forward and ran my tongue along his length. 

‘Fuck me,’ he cried, looking at me as he pulled my wet hair out of my face. I smirked.  
‘Oh, honey, I fucking planned to,’ I replied, before wrapping my lips around his tip and taking him into my throat in one foul swoop.   
‘Fuck,’ he gasped, his fingers in my hair tightening until I moaned around him and pulled back on him. I looked up at him, as innocently as I could with his cock between my lips, seeing his face etched in illicit ecstasy as he watched me give him head. I smiled around him, humming as his chest rose and fell heavily, his hands guiding me on his dick as his hips moved. I swirled my tongue around his tip on the down stroke, teasing him. It was meant to be my teasing, but I would have been lying if I said I was upset by his inability to control himself. I loved to be at his behest. 

I suckled on him as he gently fucked my mouth. My fingers ran over the hair on his thigh as I reached up to roll his sack in my palm.   
‘Fuck, baby,’ he gasped, gently pulling me off his shaft by the hair as I looked up at him innocently. ‘If you want me inside you, love, it needs to be now.’ I gave his tip another quick flick with the tip of my tongue, tasting just how close he was to exploding as he gently pulled my head back and kissed me hard and wanton. 

I moaned into his heat, whimpering at the feeling of my hair being released and his arms picking me up from my knees. Our tongues danced the tango that had been designed by the gods for only us as our bodies moulded to each other’s. My breast were pressed harder against his abdomen, his stiffness flat against my tummy. My hands twinkled in his hair and roamed the plains of his back as his glided over my ass to my thighs. 

I felt as he bent his knees and his hand slid between my thighs to lift me to his waist. I squeaked against his lips; he held me as if I was a dainty wee thing, not a full figured curvaceous woman who carried extra cushioning for a baby. I tried push the negative thoughts out of my mind as I felt the air temperature change, indicating he had carried me into the bedroom. The quick swat on my inner thigh told me he had caught the meaning of my squeal. 

He placed me in the centre of the bed, settling himself over me without leaving my lips. I groaned, his weight masculine and protective over my body was as addictive as his hand that wandered my thigh, pulling my knee to rest on his rib cage. His hips rested at the apex of my thighs, his hard length settled snuggly between my wet folds. He placed himself on his elbow over me, his arm cradled under my neck as his hand held my shoulder tight. I whimpered, feeling his hips rolling gently without entering my body. 

‘Paul,’ I breathed, as he pulled back to rest his forehead against mine. I reached up to caress the bicep beside my ear.  
‘Hmm,’ he replied, as he ran his fingers over my hip and waist. I slipped my free hand between us and wrapped it around him gently. He groaned, lifting his head away from mine in ecstasy. I licked my top lip at the sight, burning with the fire to I could see in his eyes.   
‘I need you,’ I gasped, guiding his tip to the entrance to bliss. He looked down at me, pulling my knee higher before he slowly rolled his hips forward between my fingers. 

I threw my head back and cried at the agonisingly blissful pace of his cock joining with my body. He was thick and caressed every inch of me as he slid in to the halt. My chest heaved for oxygen as he let my body adjust to the sudden occupation of emptiness. My fingers gripped onto his bicep and hip, the feeling of fullness intoxicating and freeing. And then he moved.

I wailed and screwed my eyes shut at the feeling of his sharp retreat and sharper advance, his tip caressing my depths with heated passion. I couldn’t breathe, he had stolen the air from my lung with his thrust, that was quickly followed by another. My body arched into his, my hand cupping his arse while the other clung to his shoulder as I was drowning in a storm and he was my salvation. It wasn’t wrong either. He and I both knew we were saving each other from ourselves. 

‘Look at me,’ he panted, my eyes springing open as he wrapped his arm under my raised thigh and lifted it over his shoulder, changing the angle of my pelvis and his thrusts. His thick rod pumped inside me as his hard tip tapped against that sweet spot on each and every completed stroke. I screamed, but no sound came out as he lowered his forehead to mine, his arms cradling my waist to his body. My breasts bounced against his chest, my hips trying to meet his as he powered into my deeps with a delightful force. 

‘Paul, I’m going to...’ I gasped, breathlessly as I pulled my hand from his behind to cup the stubble on his cheek. He growled, lost in the pleasure he was taking from my body around him, as he scrambled to his knees mid-thrust, hitting me deeper still. My eyes widened at the sudden change in everything; my behind had been lifted off the bed, supported by his thighs, my weight taken by my shoulder blades and his secure arm as his body curled over me. 

There was no drawback, and the intake was deeper, kissing my very soul. I pulled my knee up around his hip as I pulled his lips to mine, pouring every welled up feeling I had consuming me into him. His hips bucked into me quickly, uneven and faultering as the climax he was holding off for me started to become too much to ignore. His cradling arm pulled me tight still, his pants and grunts combining with mine as his fingers found the erect bundle of nerves atop my breast between our chests. 

He closed his finger and thumb around it and twisted. The sensation of my nipple being teased coupled with the bruising pace of his cock against my cervix had me tearing at the skin on his shoulder and back, screaming with sheer ecstasy as I tumbled off the cliff, into the orgasmic centre of cloud 9. My body stiffened, pressed solidly against his length as every muscle jumped and clamped around him. 

‘Fuck,’ he growled, letting go of my lips to bury his face in my neck, using the force of my clenched inner walls to bring himself to the edge I had just fallen over. I reached up and sunk my teeth into his collarbone, the sudden pain causing him to follow me over the ledge and roar my name in my ear, as if it was a call to the gods themselves. His cock didn’t once stop pumping as stream after stream of seed emptied into my body, the warm substance mixing with my own juices as he fucked me through our combined orgasm.

Only once we had stopped shaking and the grip of my teeth on his shoulder had softened did he slow his pace inside me. Remaining on his knees, he gently helped me to lower my leg from his shoulder to the softness of the mattress and he very carefully scooped up my body of melted putty to his body to drag me to the pillows at the head of the bed. I let him place me on the pillows and he fumbled with the sheets, whimpering as he slipped out of me. 

‘Easy, love,’ he whispered, chuckling as he helped me to lie flat on the marshmallow-soft mattress. He kicked the blankets from under our entwined legs as he rested straddling my thighs.   
‘I lied,’ he said, his tone quiet and gentle, as he caressed my hip and thigh, holding himself over me on one arm. I looked up at him, confused, as I reached for him. He took my hand in his and lifted it to his lips, grazing them across my palm and wrist. He gave my sex-relaxed body a heated once over and gave the tip of my ring finger a teasing bite, turning my hand in his to kiss the diamond solitaire set on it. 

‘This is the best view in Scotland,’ he continued, leaning forward to kiss me tenderly. My free hand caressed his thigh gently as I smiled against his lips.  
‘I’m pretty sure I’m looking at it, love,’ I whispered, kissing him back as the relaxation of being throughly fucked combined with tiredness of being a new mother. I yawned into his mouth and he snickered, kissing my nose as he climbed off me, onto his side of the bed. 

‘Hey,’ I exclaimed weakly, trying to stifle a second yawn. ‘Come back.’  
‘It’s okay, love,’ he soothed, gently rolling me onto my side so he could retrieve the blankets from the foot of the bed. I moaned, feeling him tuck me in before he snuggled in to spoon me. I lifted my head so he could lay it under my neck as he ran his hand over my thigh. I moaned, following his silent request to crook my knee as he dipped his fingers into my dipping lips.   
‘I’m right here,’ he breathed my ear as I sighed, reaching up to tingle my fingers in his as I turned my head into his bicep to hide my yawn. 

‘Sleep, love,’ he breathed, squeezing my hand as he slipped his shaft inside me again. I sighed, rolling my hips back to settle in his lap.  
‘Gods, I’ve missed this,’ I whispered, feeling myself slip away as he toyed with my nipple lazily. Before Arlo was born, it wasn’t uncommon for us to fall asleep in a cock warming embrace, our fingers entwined as his hand cupped my mould in his hand and while it was just a nap, it was a nice normal to return to.   
‘I love you, baby,’ he whispered, kissing the skin behind my ear.  
‘I love you, too.’

‘Hush, wee man, we can’t wake Mama,’ I heard Paul coo quietly as I started to surface. I didn’t remember falling asleep. I didn’t remember Paul getting up or Arlo crying. But I had somehow rolled over to settle in to sleep on his sweatpants-covered thigh and had been there a while, judged by the crook in my neck.   
‘Yes, I know, Mama’s right there,’ he whispered, as I cracked open an eye to spot him in the glass of the window. He was shirtless, wee Arlo cradled in his arms as he held a bottle for our baby to feed. In my sleep, I had placed my hand over his shaft, which was hard and free beneath his sweats. I smiled softly. ‘But she’s being a crazy lady and waking up to feed you every night.’ 

‘Hey,’ I whined, looking up at him with one eye as he looked over Arlo’s head grinning, blowing me a kiss.   
‘How did you know,’ I asked, lifting my stiff neck off him onto the pillow. He moved slightly to look at me more comfortably.   
‘Love, how long have you and I sleeping together,’ he replied, cocking an eyebrow at me. ‘You stiffened when you realised your neck was sore.’ I flipped him off teasingly as I stretched, my breasts peeking out from under the blankets as my body arched off the bed. Arlo chose that moment to flap his arms excitedly. 

‘I know,’ Paul answered, looking at my nipples as they tightened under his gaze. ‘I’m happy that your Mama can’t breastfeed you too, cause it means Da can play with Mama and not starve you.’ I tapped his thigh as I relaxed, grinning up at him.   
‘Mama’s likes it, too,’ I replied, reaching behind my neck to try and relieve the tension in my muscles.   
‘I’ll give your neck a rub shortly, love,’ he suggested, wriggling his eyebrows at me. I moaned at the thought.   
‘Yes, please, Captain,’ I agreed, looking up at him sitting beside me. 

‘Paul,’ I said, taking in the sight of him cradling his son in his arms. I had seen him in dinner suits, denim, leather and tees. I had seen him fully clothed and nude and every state of dress in between. I had seen in his element on stage performing for his fans with a genuine passion, I had seen him in a rage over something that wasn’t right. I had seen him at his most vulnerable and at his most elated. But nothing, I thought as I sat up, blankets around my bust, could prepare me for the sight before me. 

‘I was wrong.’   
He looked at me, confused as I leaned forward to kiss him with tenderness and love that I could only feel for him. My hand cupped his cheek as the bristles on his skin tickled my palm and fingertips. I felt him lean into my kiss, knowing he could do little more than that holding Arlo in his arms. All the words that had ever been left unsaid and had only ever been told in our extremely personal language passed between us in the movements of our lips. I pulled back to suck in a breath, resting my forehead against his.  
‘I can honestly say, this sight before me right now, is the best view in Scotland,’ I breathed, feeling him move to kiss my cheek and rest his head against mine as we both looked down at the wee boy between us.  
‘That, my love, I’m going to have to agree with you on.’


End file.
